


Overabundance of Socks

by deansmultitudes



Series: Coldest Days in the World [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Castiel's first winter, Crack, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Gen, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansmultitudes/pseuds/deansmultitudes
Summary: Cas is getting ready for a very important mission in the wintery hell outside the Bunker.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Coldest Days in the World [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560007
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Overabundance of Socks

**Author's Note:**

> Republished from the _coldest days in the world_ drabble collection, now in a series.

Grunting coming from Cas’s room makes Dean stop in his tracks. He turns on his heel and creeps on his tiptoes to the door. It’s open wide, presenting its brightly lit inside, Cas sitting alone on the bed. Fully clothed and all, thank fuck.

Actually, he’s more than fully clothed. Much, much more. Dean slips into the doorway, arms crossed, no longer worried the guy will notice him. He’s too busy trying to force what must be the fifth or sixth sock on his left foot.

There are black hems of trousers coming out of his jeans and at least two different colors of plaid collars peeking out from beneath three layers of wool and Dean doesn’t doubt there is a number of invisible to him layers in there as well.

Cas grunts again as he gives the sock a strong yank, but instead of giving in, the fabric slips out from between his fingers and the force sends his palms plunging right into his own jaw. A mixture of a growl and whine escapes his mouth.

Dean bites down a chuckle. “Last time I checked the heating was working.”

Cas doesn’t take eyes off the sock sadly hanging off his toes. “Inside—yes,” he says, resuming his mission. “Outside, it’s still frigid.”

“Yeah, that’s why we haven’t gone out in over a week,” Dean agrees. “So what exactly is it you’re planning?”

“I’m going out,” he replies, to which Dean rolls his eyes. “To a store.”

He finally manages to pull the sock on, he swings his legs back and forth in a tiny, triumphant dance.

Dean’s eyebrows snap together. “We’re stocked up on everything.”

Cas jumps off the bed and grabs his coat.

“We’re out of tea,” he informs Dean as he passes by him and into the corridor.

“Just this morning I saw at least twenty boxes in the cupboard,” Dean says, following him to the stairs. “They can’t all be empty.”

“They’re not, but the pear and honey one is all gone.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows. “You sure pear and honey is worth walking out into that snow hell outside? What happened to the low temperature intolerance?”

“It’s worth it,” Cas replies with confidence.

“If you say so.” Dean shrugs. “Or I could just make hot chocolate.”

“No, thank you,” Cas says, reaching out for his boots at the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay. Tell me, though, where are you gonna get boots this size?” Dean smirks, pointing to the thick wrapping on his feet.

Cas glances to his feet then back to the boot in his palm, distress blooming on his face.

He ends up peeling off two pairs of socks before he manages to squeeze his feet into the boots, but, at last, he succeeds and starts climbing the stairs, slowly, movements restricted by all of the layers.

“Good luck!” Dean bellows after him before the door shuts close.

Dean shakes his head and sinks in the chair. Gotta admire the bravery, Dean isn’t peeking the tip of his nose outside until the world chills with the whole The Day After Tomorrow gig.

He leans back and opens a book but before he can get through the first page, the door swings open and closes with a thump. At the top of the stairs appears a figure that looks more like a snowman than Cas.

“That was quick, Frosty,” Dean teases, as Cas tries to shake off the snow covering nearly every inch of his body.

Cas blurts out some words through the chatter of his teeth, but all Dean gets is, “Honey?”

Dean can't hold back a small smile. “What did you say, uh—sugar?”

Cas narrows eyes at him from over the railing. “I asked if hot chocolate tastes good with honey.”

Hot blush creeps up Dean's cheeks. He tries to cover the embarrassment with a chuckle.

“Probably,” he says, getting up. “Let's find out. Catch me in the kitchen.” He begins to walk out but then he turns and jerks his fingers at descending Cas, black coat turned all white, hair wet from thawing snow, a few inches of soon-to-be pulp and puddles. “No snow allowed,” he barks and leaves Cas to it.

There’s a sound of defeated stomping of Cas’s boots carrying behind him, then grunting as the guy wrestles the boots off.

A long, distraught wail makes Dean pause.

“Dude, you alright?” he calls over his shoulder.

“I wetted my socks,” Cas whines. “All of them!”

**Author's Note:**

> A piece of dialogue accidentally inspired by [this comic](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/post/151538705306/does-the-idea-of-delicious-honey-upset-you)
> 
> Find this fic on [tumblr](http://babybluecas.tumblr.com/post/154825027529/grunting-coming-from-cass-room-makes-dean-stop-in)


End file.
